


To Devour the Sun

by TrashyBaby



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Art, Bondage, Bottom Thorin, Captive Thorin, Cumbersmaug, Dark Magic, Dubious Consent, Fanart, Gay, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Hypnosis, Large Cock, M/M, Master/Pet, Mean Smaug, Mind Control, NSFW Art, Older Man/Younger Man, Physical Abuse, Prisoner Thorin, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex Magic, Sexual Abuse, Top Smaug, Verbal Humiliation, Vulnerable Thorin, Yaoi, prisoner
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-19 02:17:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22236973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashyBaby/pseuds/TrashyBaby
Summary: “Long will you desire to reclaim the treasure I have taken from you,” Smaug hissed, his words echoing in Thorin’s head, “And long will you imagine that one day you might return and defeat me. But this you will lose forever and so shall I gain it forever. And sweeter the victory will be, knowing you cried in ecstasy as I took it.”-----------------------------------------------When the dragon Smaug begins his siege upon the dwarf kingdom of Erebor, the young prince, Thorin Oakenshield, finds himself face to face with the usurper in strange and fell humanoid forms. And when the great serpent reveals a hypnotic ability to penetrate and control the psyche of his victims, things take an even more sinister turn...
Relationships: Smaug & Thorin Oakenshield, Smaug/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 3
Kudos: 74





	1. Treasures of Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> **Have critiques or constructive criticism? Please feel free to leave a comment!**
> 
> You can find my adult NSFW art on:  
> Hentai-Foundry: https://www.hentai-foundry.com/user/TrashyBaby/profile  
> Twitter: https://twitter.com/TrashyBabyArt  
> FurAffinity: https://www.furaffinity.net/user/trashybaby/  
> ART STREAMING on Picarto:https://picarto.tv/TrashyBaby  
> Censored/SFW art posted to:  
> DeviantArt: https://www.deviantart.com/trashybabyart  
> Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/trashybabyart/
> 
>  **DISCLAIMER:**  
>  This story is entirely inspired by Bilcrist's ideas for humanized!Smaug and the comment they made about the concept in the picture description on DeviantArt. I too am working with the Peter Jackson movie concept and my Smaug design is more like a Tiefling/Dragonborn than humanized per say, but still, I give credit where credit is due, check out their art because its amazing!!  
>  _https://www.deviantart.com/brilcrist/art/CumberSmaug-n-Young-Thorin-364782086_
> 
> Technically Thorin is 24 when Erebor falls. Although he appears grown, that's actually considered quite young in Dwarvish society. Dwarves are deemed fit for hard labor/battle at the age of 40. I'm not sure on what their opinion of sexuality would look like in regards to this age though and he surely doesn't look under 18 in the movie, so I'm not using the "Underage" tag.

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[ ](https://gyazo.com/91e2af00208b55601cad88a562f8d674)

_This original artwork is a cropped version,_ _the full image can be found_ _on:_

 **HENTAI-FOUNDRY:** _https://www.hentai-foundry.com/user/TrashyBaby/profile_  
**TWITTER:** _https://twitter.com/TrashyBabyArt_

* * *

The world came slowly to Thorin as his eyes blinked open. At first, all was a haze of sharp, bright colors and the smell of burning cloth and flesh. Memories came back slowly. His home, the great dwarf kingdom of Erebor, was under siege by the dragon Smaug. He’d laid waste to their warriors, feasting upon them in his bloodlust or else setting them aflame. The battle had been lost all too swiftly to the sheer might of the dragon. The dwarf prince was not yet old enough to have seen battle, but still he’d taken up his sword in the chaos and rallied their defenses at the main gates.

He remembered vividly the dragon, the largest living creature he’d ever laid eyes on, smashing through the great gates of stone as if they were but paper against his weight. What chance had they against a creature of that magnitude as it spat acid flames to melt them into puddles of gore where they stood? It was sheer luck that he wasn’t crushed beneath the dragon’s great claws as it entered, but he was thrown violently against the wall and all had gone dark for a time.

As he struggled to his feet, he beheld the ruin of the warriors of Erebor about him. Screaming echoed through the halls and the crackle and scent of flame. His people were fleeing in droves from Erebor and the terror of Smaug. Gathering himself, he thought suddenly of his father and grandfather, their whereabouts unknown. His head swam as he tried to move, pushing himself into a run as he fought down the panic rising in his chest. He had to find them.

As he climbed the stairs, the floor rumbled beneath his feet and he struggled to keep his balance as he heard the great bellow of the dragon from ahead. Surely, he was searching for the halls of treasure, but they were deep beneath the earth. Thorin pushed on, even as others rushed past him to escape. They called to him to follow, beckoning him not to go deeper into Erebor, and when asked for the whereabouts of his kin, there were no answers. But Thorin had a good idea.

Thror would protect the Arkenstone, the King’s Jewel, above all his treasure. He would have gone to it and Thorin could only hope that Thrain, his father, would be there too, in the hall of the king where the Arkenstone was ever embedded into the throne itself. But as he approached the hall, an eerie quiet fell about him. All was empty and bare of life and the sounds of terror and destruction faded behind him as he crept down the long stone path.

The Arkenstone was shining upon the crown of the throne, beautiful as a star plucked from the very heavens themselves. But Thror and Thrain were nowhere to be found. Thorin was overcome with a terrible sense of being watched. He peered about cautiously, gazing to the depths below on either side of the archway upon which he walked. The dragon was far too big to hide itself; he would surely see it in so cavernous a room. But still the feeling lingered.

Swiftly, he moved to the throne and, stepping upon it, reached for the Arkenstone. Beside him a small stone fell, the soft clattering echoing about the room and he paused. The shadow fell upon him and by the time he realized his folly, it was too late. Slowly, his eyes drew upwards and there, clutching the ceiling with his claws, Smaug was perched in the gloom. His great eyes glowed with a terrible fire as he spread his wings and, opening his bloodied maw, let loose a cry so fell and piercing, Thorin’s hands clapped over his ears.

The dragon let himself fall from the ceiling, twisting cat like in the air, to clutch instead at the great stone pillar atop which sat the throne. The room shook violently and Thorin lost his footing, tumbling painfully to the ground. Wincing, he pushed himself up to his hands and knees and found himself inches from Smaug’s nightmarish fangs. His breath caught in his chest with a soft gasp of horror.

A low hiss immitted from the dragon as he spoke, “What’s this? A little thief come to steal my treasure?”

Thorin was speechless for a moment as Smaug turned his head, one great eye peering closely at him as he continued, “Ah, the crowned _prince_ none the less. Thorin, isn’t it?”

“The treasures of Erebor,” Thorin managed to say, more confidently than he really felt as he staggered to his feet, “belong to _my_ people and to their King. They will not be taken by the likes of you, filth!”

For a moment, Thorin thought his time had come, that in his fury Smaug would strike him down right there, but instead the dragon threw his head back and laughed, the echo booming throughout the room.

“And who, pray tell, is going to stop me? _You?_ A mere child?”

“I am no child,” Thorin spat, reaching for his sword and realizing with a jolt that it had been knocked out of his hands when he’d been thrown against the wall earlier.

Smaug laughed again, but this time the sound was slow and sinister, “Missing something, are we?”

Thorin reached instead for the long dagger on the other side of his belt, but Smaug grabbed him with the great clawed digits of his winged arm and squeezed his body until he cried out in agony. The knife fell uselessly into the void beneath them.

“Hmmm,” Smaug pondered to himself, “Were I not so full from feasting upon your pathetic warriors, I would eat you, little prince.”

A huge, forked tongue reached out to lick at Thorin, who thrashed uselessly against his captor, cursing him in his native tongue. Smaug dropped him unceremoniously at the foot of the throne and heaved himself up, twisting his body around the long earthen pillar, veined with glittering gold, that connected the stone body of the throne to the ceiling above. Coughing, Thorin looked up just in time to see the entirety of his body disappear as he turned about the pillar, never appearing on the other side. His mouth opened in shock.

“Impossible…” he breathed, trying to get again to his feet and looking around frantically for any sign of the dragon. Calling out viciously, he demanded, “Where are you? Show yourself!”

A dark laugh echoed about him, “So tell me… where is the treasure hall?”

A rattling of metal sounded from above and at Thorin’s feet, a heavy set of prisoner’s cuffs and a collar fell, each affixed with a long chain. “I found your dungeons…” the voice of Smaug continued, “but you’ve hidden the treasure well… Give me it’s location and maybe I’ll let you escape with your pitiful life.”

“Never,” Thorin sneered.

“You dwarves are such fools,” Smaug sighed as though chastising a child, “To proud to admit defeat even now. Well, no matter. I _will_ find it regardless. But you…”

Thorin swallowed as the voice seemed to fade away and all went silent once more. His gaze darted around the room in terror, waiting for the dragon to leap out and attack him at any moment. But then came the sound of soft footsteps behind him and he turned to see someone walking out from behind the throne.

The dragon now stood before him, cloaked in a powerful magic that allowed his body to take a strange and fell form. One might have thought him elven kind, though dark and terrible in his beauty, but for the great horns that protruded from his skull and smaller spikes about his face, resembling the appearance of his true body, and his scaled skin which remained a bright crimson. Armor he wore as well, obsidian leather that, like his horns, recalled his dragon form in its shapes and design. It was made cleverly to allow his two great wings to sprout from his back, neither as big as before but more than enough to carry him on high.

Thorin blinked in shock, unable to understand as the dark figure advanced upon him, “What? How can this be…?”

The dragon chuckled at his reaction, “It is quite a tale, not that you’ll ever hear it.”

Thorin took a step back as he came ever closer. The dragon stood so tall that the top of Thorin’s head barely reached his chest and as his wings spread, the prince was all but enveloped by the terrible creature. Before he could react, the claws of Smaug’s wings gripped his arms, pinning them to his sides as he leapt upon him, wrestling the smaller male to the ground. Thorin fought viciously against him, but the strength of the dragon was barely lessoned despite his new form. Smaug had him upon his stomach, his wrists pinned to the ground by the claws of his wings, and straddled his waist to render his kicking legs useless while he ripped the fur cloak from his shoulders. His belt and tunic were taken next, then his boots and britches.

Thorin’s heart seized with fear as he was disrobed, unable to grasp what horrible purpose it would serve. Once he was in little more than his undertunic and garments the dragon seized the cuffs and collar and clasped them tightly around Thorin’s wrists and neck before letting the dwarf squirm away from him, like a cat allowing a mouse the chance to think it could escape. Smaug showed his teeth with pleasure, holding the chains tightly so that as Thorin attempted to race away from him, he was suddenly jerked back. He let out a cruel laugh as he began slowly pulling Thorin back towards him, struggle though he may.

“Release me!” Thorin snarled and Smaug could smell the terror permeating from him.

Without warning, Smaug kicked off from the ground, taking the chains to the cuffs with him. Thorin was jerked up to the throne as the dragon twisted the chain about the stone structure. Then he looped and melted the ends together so that his prey had no chance to break free but for severing the chains. He was held prisoner even as he sat upon his own throne. Then Smaug floated back down and approached him yet again, enjoying how wide those deep blue eyes were as they peered fearfully up at him.

“It’s so nice to see you like this,” Smaug crooned, running his fingers down the side of the dwarf prince’s face, “So helpless… and _exposed._ ”

Disgusted, Thorin turned his head and snapped his teeth down on the closest digit, but Smaug’s leather gloves were far tougher than he expected. The dragon laughed low and dark and responded by shoving two fingers into Thorin’s mouth. He struggled to escape, but Smaug’s free hand moved in, gripping a handful of hair at the nape of his neck and forcing his head to remain in place.

“If you wish to use your mouth,” The claws of Smaug’s wings now grasped Thorin’s ankles as he trashed and kicked, restraining him, “I’ll be happy to oblige.”

He reached far enough in to make Thorin gag violently, wetness triggering reactively in the dwarf’s eyes. No matter how hard his teeth ground down, Smaug couldn’t even feel his attempts to bite him and beneath his chest, his heart was hammering in fury. Streaks traced through the dust and ash on his face as hot tears dripped down his cheeks.

Not wishing to push so far as to make him sick, Smaug eventually pulled his fingers out. Dripping in saliva, he dragged them once more down Thorin’s face. The blow to Smaug’s head came fast and unexpected. Although Thorin’s wrists were shackled above his head, his arms were resting at half-mast, giving him full access to his elbows. The strike could easily have split open an eyebrow, but the dragon’s skin was not so easily broken, even in his humanoid form. Regardless, the expression of shock and fury filled Thorin with savage pride.

Smaug bared his fangs in a hiss before backhanding him hard enough to make his ears ring, the world spinning before his eyes. Before he could recover a second blow landed to his solar plexus and then another between his legs. His knees tried to jerk in to cover himself but Smaug’s claws held them firmly in place as he continued to punish him for his insolence until he lay there spasming in pain.

“You are _far_ too prideful for a prisoner,” Smaug sneered, eyes glinting with malice as he watched Thorin gasp, his breath coming in great shaky gulps. He was unable to stop the little sounds of agony that escaped him and his face burned as the dragon’s smug expression loomed over him.

“Your kind may be incredibly resilient to pain,” Those gloved hands pulled open Thorin’s undertunic and pressed down against his bruised skin, wandering invasively across his exposed body, “but I know other ways to break you, little prince…”

Thorin squirmed, feeling a sudden unnatural heat emitting itself from Smaug’s touch, although it eased his pain to his great surprise. “What… What are you doing?” Thorin demanded, voice quavering despite himself, “Stop…!”

A smirk played across Smaug’s expression which made Thorin’s stomach clench with anxiety. “All of your treasures and halls are now _mine,_ ” He leaned in close, eyes boring into the young prince, “Erebor and the Arkenstone are _mine._ And now even you yourself will be _mine…_ ”

Smaug gripped his hips, holding him in place as he pressed himself, grinding, between Thorin’s legs. The shock of this action hit him as hard as a physical blow and for a moment Thorin was completely dumbstruck, unable to react except to shudder powerlessly beneath the dragon. He was yet quite young to dwarven standards; sixteen years shy of forty, the year he would be deemed fit for battle.

“Get off of me!” he snarled in a sudden flash of rage and fear, but Smaug held him still, laughing.

“You should think twice about struggling,” Smaug purred, a long, forked tongue extending to lap at the tears on his reddened cheek, “It can be quite painful… if I so choose.”

He placed a hand between Thorin’s legs, where great pain remained from Smaug’s punishment, and the heat began to spread. Thorin writhed, blood rising hotly in his face, but he couldn’t deny the soothing effects of the heat. Shamefully, part of him was relieved for it, for Smaug’s blow had been harsh and release from the pain was as a splash of water to fire. He’d never known dragons to have any powers of healing.

Smaug reveled in Thorin’s vulnerability and reached out to grasp his jaw in his hand. Their eyes locked and the glowing red orbs consumed Thorin, penetrating deep into his psyche. He felt the weight of the spell fall like a thick blanket of fog across his mind. The gaze of the dragon was hypnotizing to behold and his limbs grew heavy and his mind grew weak as it possessed him. Somewhere in the haze of his thoughts, a memory came to him. Something Balin had said… something about… _dragon sickness._

“Long will you desire to reclaim the treasure I have taken from you,” Smaug hissed, his words echoing in Thorin’s head, “And long will you imagine that one day you might return and defeat me. But _this_ you will lose forever and so shall I gain it forever. And sweeter the victory will be, knowing you _cried in ecstasy as I took it._ ”

“Ah!” Thorin gasped sharply as Smaug’s grip between his legs tightened and the heat that had soothed his pain now came as an insatiable lust from within his own body, “No! S-Stop…!”

“Perhaps…” Smaug said as he continued to touch him, feeling his body harden and mold to his touch, “if you _beg_.”

He tried to kick his legs to no avail, glowering at Smaug through his clouded eyes, lids heavy, and hissing, “Never…!”

Smaug gathered the chain attached to the heavy metal collar around Thorin’s neck in his free hand and pulled it taught, “Until I deem you worthy of release, you are a slave to me, little prince. Like your grandfather.”

Thorin’s eyes lit up through the fog of the spell, “What? Where is he?”

Smaug laughed low in his throat, “That is why you came back, is it not? The great King Under the Mountain could not be parted with his treasure even at the hour of his doom. Such is the folly of the line of Durin.”

“What have you done to him?” Thorin snarled.

“Nothing… as of yet, that is,” the dragon responded casually, as though pondering aloud to himself, “Though that does depend entirely upon your… cooperation.”

“You… You lie,” Thorin growled suspiciously, “This is naught but some foul trick.”

“Maybe it is,” said Smaug, smiling as he idly unlaced Thorin’s undergarments, “and maybe it isn’t. But then, if he were not my prisoner already, why has he not come to your aid? Surely, he wouldn’t stand idly by while his grandson is made the plaything of his usurper?”

Many emotions flitted swiftly across Thorin’s expression then as he struggled with what to do with this information and the panic from Smaug’s terrifying advances. He knew he couldn’t trust the dragon’s word, but too great a risk it seemed with his grandfather’s life possibly in the balance. And then even if it were the truth, there was no guarantee that Smaug wouldn’t just kill them both once he got what he wanted.

“Wh-What reason have I… to believe that you would let us go?” Thorin finally responded, stammering as he squirmed against Smaug’s wandering touch.

Impatient, Smaug suddenly gripped Thorin’s head with both hands, fingers knotting roughly in his thick raven hair, “You’ll have nothing but _my word._ And you’ll obey me regardless, slave.”

His eyes burned red once more and Thorin felt a new wave of magic envelope him, touching the lust that had been planted within him so that it bloomed into a terrible need that shook him to the core. Everything else within was dimmed, his senses, his wits, his inhibitions. Only the lust remained and it shone so bright it was like a blinding ray that demanded all of his attention.

“Ahhh! Haaa… No… Gods…!” Thorin moaned, unable to help himself, “Why… Why are you… doing this to me…?”

“The same reason I’ve taken Erebor,” Smaug said, his face mere inches from Thorin’s, “Because I want it. And I will have it.”

Thorin’s eyes squeezed shut as he tried to resist the spell, but nothing helped, nothing stayed the madness in his head. And suddenly something hot was upon his mouth. Lips like fire were kissing him and he tasted blood and ash and smoke as a tongue coaxed his own into movement. Water spilled from his eyes as his traitorous mouth obediently complied.

Smaug gripped him all the harder as he felt Thorin’s resistance finally waning and he advanced on him, kissing him all the rougher, his tongue pressing ever deeper. And when Smaug finally parted from him, Thorin’s expression was lusty and dazed as he gasped for breath, a thin line of saliva dripping down his jaw.

Smaug spoke, every word dripping with deepest satisfaction, “Such _fear_. It is delicious to feel you tremble beneath me.”

He jerked again at the chain attached to Thorin’s collar, “Now tell me, child… where is the treasure hall?”

“I… I won’t…” Thorin gasped even as Smaug’s claws cupped his legs beneath the knee and pulled him closer.

“So stubborn…” Smaug ripped his undergarments apart to leave him completely bare.

Thorin closed his eyes tightly, ashamed at his exposure as Smaug hissed and ran his hands all over him. Returning to his mouth, Smaug forced two digits back into Thorin and commanded him to suck them. The dwarf prince refused and again found himself gagging and coughing as Smaug shoved them down his throat forcefully instead. Then, once they were soaked with saliva, he moved them down below and spread the wetness upon the entrance to Thorin’s body.

This made the dwarf gasp and squirm violently and his quavering voice cried out in terror, “Stop!”

“Shhhh…” Smaug hissed, gripping the nape of Thorin’s neck and kissing him again as he began to press one finger up inside of him.

Thorin’s whole body spasmed at the feeling, lips trembling against Smaug’s as he let out a whimper of discomfort and pain. “Don’t… Don’t do this…” It was as close to begging as he was liable to get at this point, “Ah—haah! It hurts…!”

“Relax…” Smaug hissed into Thorin’s ear, “Give in, little prince… Let me have you…”

Thorin’s eyes widened as the heat began again, enveloping Smaug’s finger as it moved in and out of him, hot and soothing. He quieted then, mostly to keep from moaning in pleasure as Smaug carefully stretched his body. Slowly, he added a second digit and then another as he bit at Thorin’s ears, tongue playing about the silver piercings he had there. Thorin couldn’t believe how incredible it was beginning to feel. The building desire was more than he could bear.

Then Smaug pulled his fingers out and again pressed them into Thorin’s mouth and tears streamed down his cheeks as he was gagged a third time for resisting. Finally he obeyed, breaking down and sucking obediently at the digits to keep Smaug from choking him further.

“Good boy, that’s better,” the dragon smirked haughtily, “You’re far more enjoyable when you obey.”

Smaug now placed something else before the entrance to Thorin’s body, something far larger than a finger. And as he pressed his girth inside of the smaller male, it elicited a great many moans and cries from his victim; lustful, fragile sounds that only excited the dragon further. Because he had been careful in stretching Thorin’s body, he was able to slip inside with relative ease, and soon was pumping in and out of him.

Thorin gripped the chains above his head, his mind swimming with magic. He lost himself in it as Smaug had his way with him, penetrating him deeper with every thrust. Finally, he gave a great shove and sheathed the entirety of himself within Thorin’s tight body. Thorin could feel the all-consuming heat buried deep in his belly as his whole form arched and he cried out in wrathful ecstasy.

Then suddenly, Smaug pulled out of him, eliciting a sharp, quavering yelp of discomfort. His claws released Thorin’s legs in place of gripping the stone about them and instead Smaug grabbed him roughly, turning his body around so that his knees rested upon the seat of the throne. One free hand lifted one of Thorin’s legs while the other held the back of his neck, pressing the side of his face against the back of the Throne as he shoved himself all the way back inside, no longer being careful or slow.

Now he began to truly ravage the young prince, hands gripping him rough and malicious wherever they lay, whether restraining limb or gripping a thick handful of hair. He took him in every way he could, each position more humiliating than the last, but Thorin was lost to his spell and no longer offered any resistance. He was a quavering mess beneath the power of the dragon, like putty in his hands. And when Smaug was finally ready to climax, he buried himself as deep as he could in Thorin’s body and hissed in his ear.

“ _Beg for it, little prince,_ ” his tongue flitted out to lick again at the salty tears upon Thorin’s face, “ _Beg me to finish you off.”_

Smaug was now seated in the throne with Thorin facing him in his lap like a pleasure slave. Not once had he paused for rest as he’d taken the young prince and all the time that passed felt as an eternity to his prey, shaking with exhaustion and dripping with sweat. Thorin himself was hard and aching with pleasure, but with his hands chained above him, he could not obtain relief and Smaug offered no assistance.

“Come now…” Smaug hissed, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look up, their faces inches apart, “Do as I say, child. _Obey._ ”

Thorin’s mouth trembled as his lips parted and softly, he whispered in a quavering little voice, “Please…”

Smaug grinned, eyes narrowing with deepest satisfaction, “And now you are forever mine.”

He gripped Thorin’s hips and sated his brutal lust upon him again as he screamed in pleasure and pain until finally a hot white flood was released inside of him. Thorin’s eyes were wide with shock and lust as it filled his belly and continued to pump him full, overflowing until quite suddenly he felt something swell in his throat and heaved a hot splash of the sticky substance all down the front of his body. Reactionary tears dripped thickly down his face, getting lost in his dripping beard as he sucked in thick, wet gasps of air.

Smaug leaned back, catching his breath as well, and took in the sight of his enemy, a shaking sloppy wreck in his lap, eyes still heavy with the power of the dragon’s spell. He squirmed even now as Smaug’s shaft relaxed within him, having had no release of his own and craving it. But that was exactly as planned.

“Alright, little one,” Smaug crooned, stroking his hair as though he were a favored pet, “Time to give me what I need. I will find it one way or another. Either you can tell me where it is or I can melt your entire kingdom and everyone you care for until I find it on my own.”

Thorin bowed his head, broken, and finally gave up the location of the hall of treasure. Smaug purred in satisfaction and took Thorin in his arms, standing and then turning around to deposit the other carefully back into the seat of the throne. He then fixed himself to leave and looked once more back at his victim, just to take in the sight of what havoc he’d wreaked. Thorin lay curled on the throne, gasping for breath as Smaug’s seed dripped thickly all about him.

“My… My grandfather…” Thorin managed to gasp, some of his wits coming back to him as he realized Smaug was finished with him.

“Hm? Oh…” Smaug’s laugh was a malicious taunt, “Why, I’m afraid you were right, little prince. That _was_ just a cruel trick. I have him not.”

Smaug hadn’t thought he could bring Thorin lower, but the look on his face was as of such abject defeat as to prove him wrong and the frailty of him was exquisite. Such was Smaug’s utter glee that he’d managed to so thoroughly break the prince that he stretched out the claw of his wing and used it to slash through the chains keeping Thorin cuffed to the throne. Then, gripping his jaw once more, Smaug leaned in close.

“I suppose there’s no harm in keeping my word to let you go, now that you’ve proven yourself to be such an obedient thing,” he chuckled, “You truly are a sorry sight to behold.”

Thorin’s face burned as his arms instinctively wrapped around himself, but he remained silent, closing his eyes tightly. Smaug nipped at his ear one final time, hissing softly, “I’d keep you for a pet, prince, if I but had the patience. Alas, I do not. Now…”

He reached up and wrenched the Arkenstone out of its place on the throne. He then turned, spreading his great wings, and didn’t look back. “ _Get out of my kingdom._ ”


	2. Desolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Smaug was between his dragon and mortal skins now, in a kind of demi-form. His body retained something of its humanoid shape, although he was even bigger than before. Huge, deadly claws sprouted instead of feet from his legs and along with the spikes reaching out of his head and spine, there were more about his shoulders and great clusters all along both forearms. His true face he now wore in miniature upon that serpentine neck that craned and twisted so that the creature could set one vivid eye upon Thorin._  
>    
> _"What’s your plan now?"_
> 
> \--------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> When the dragon Smaug begins his siege upon the dwarf kingdom of Erebor, the young prince, Thorin Oakenshield, finds himself face to face with the usurper in strange and fell humanoid forms. And when the great serpent reveals a hypnotic ability to penetrate and control the psyche of his victims, things take an even more sinister turn...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Have critiques or constructive criticism? Please feel free to leave a comment!**
> 
> You can find my adult NSFW art on:  
> Hentai-Foundry: https://www.hentai-foundry.com/user/TrashyBaby/profile  
> Twitter: https://twitter.com/TrashyBabyArt  
> FurAffinity: https://www.furaffinity.net/user/trashybaby/  
> ART STREAMING on Picarto:https://picarto.tv/TrashyBaby  
> Censored/SFW art posted to:  
> DeviantArt: https://www.deviantart.com/trashybabyart  
> Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/trashybabyart/

* * *

[](https://gyazo.com/1dbbe5f5f26faa64b3d317fb8cc71720)

_This original artwork is a cropped version,_ _the full image can be found_ _on:_

_**HENTAI-FOUNDRY:** _https://www.hentai-foundry.com/user/TrashyBaby/profile_  
**TWITTER:** _https://twitter.com/TrashyBabyArt__

* * *

Thorin slammed the full weight of his body against the heavy set of wooden doors before him. Above, a massive hole that had been blown in the ceiling let in great streams of light from the setting sun that pooled upon the floor. Rubble lay all about him from the wreckage. Short of sprouting wings, there was no way he could get up to those precarious heights. Breaking down the door was the only way to escape.

The doors predictably threw him back and he landed in a heap on the floor. His body ached, protesting every movement as he forced himself back to his feet. Cold sweat dripped down his face as his knees shook and after a brief moment of contemplation, he collapsed down upon them. He was glad for the cool summer night upon his bare skin. His undertunic was now tied about his waist to allow him some semblance of coverage, as he had no other clothing.

After ravaging the prince upon his throne, Smaug had taunted him in his agony and then turned to leave him there. But before he could take off, there had been a chain of explosions down below that distracted him as they shook the ground beneath his feet. Thorin had taken his chance then.

Although the great serpent’s lust had been sated upon him, Smaug had been lulling him into a compliant state with magic, some of it of the healing kind, so his body was not too hurt to charge him. Leaping upon Smaug’s back, he’d wrapped the chains hanging from the prisoner’s cuffs about his wrists around his neck and pulled them taught.

Smaug let loose a terrible cry of fury and surprise and thrashed against his bondage, but Thorin was strong and tightened the chain further until his foe’s breath caught harshly in his throat. “ _Your turn to choke,_ _worm_ ,” Thorin hissed viciously into Smaug’s ear.

Unable to respond but for strangled attempts at breath, Smaug spread his wings and took off through the air, Thorin holding on for dear life. He wrapped his legs around Smaug’s waist for stability but even as he did, he could feel his body changing, expanding. The magic that allowed him to take this form was reversing in stages and Thorin watched in horror as the creature’s armor turned again into thick dragon hide and his neck grew long while more horns sprouted from his skull and his face stretched and contorted gruesomely for the coming of his fangs.

Spikes began to burst from his spine, keeping Thorin from gripping him too close as he flew about the room, spinning and diving to shake the dwarf off. Somehow, he managed to hold on and eventually Smaug’s riled temper cooled. He slowed to a stop, his powerful wings keeping him elevated a mere arm’s reach from the ceiling of the cavernous room. No longer choking, his neck was now thick as a small tree and armored in his true skin. The flesh of it expanded and contracted easily with breath as though the heavy chain were but a necklace.

Smaug was between his dragon and mortal skins now, in a kind of demi-form. His body retained something its humanoid shape, although he was even bigger than before. Huge, deadly claws sprouted instead of feet from his legs and along with the spikes reaching out of his head and spine, there were more about his shoulders and great clusters all along both forearms. His true face he now wore in miniature upon that serpentine neck that craned and twisted so that the creature could set one vivid eye upon Thorin.

“What’s your plan _now_?” Smaug’s voice hissed and Thorin could hear the painful effects of the choking in it. Only a few more moments with Smaug’s mortal body and he would have snapped his neck or crushed his windpipe.

Thorin gasped as he felt something thick come up between his legs and he realized it was a tail whose girth matched that of the dragon’s neck, easily supporting his weight as it lifted to curl about him. His hide was hot to the touch and his tail was adorned with the same sharp protrusions as the rest of him, with the ability to skewer him or knock him lose to fall to his death right that very instant.

Thorin swallowed, sensing the end, and cloaked his fear in hate. “Do what you will, I’ll be proud to have died trying to kill you, _scum_.”

Smaug’s tongue licked at the backs of his fangs in irritation, “Your pride will be the death of more than your body, _child_.”

Thorin’s brow furrowed at this answer, but he had no time to respond as Smaug’s tail struck him from the side, abruptly unseating him. Terror seized his chest as he plummeted through the air, the fall seeming endless as his stomach rolled and lurched. He closed his eyes tight against the stinging of the wind howling about his ears.

He might have found a way to console himself about death; to convince himself there was honor in it at least. Not surprisingly though, free fall had the curious effect of erasing all thought from one’s mind. And then suddenly, it was over. Warmth enveloped him, comforting against the cold sweat of panic that covered his body. Someone was holding him.

His eyes opened to the sight of the scaled skin of Smaug against his face. Looking down, he also saw that they were now at the bottom of the hall of the king, beside the great pillar that housed the throne upon its zenith. His wits were fast to return, but his bearings much less so, his insides still reeling.

“What’s the matter?” Smaug taunted as he held him to his chest, “Not afraid of heights, are you? Shall we do it again?”

Thorin began to struggle, unable to keep the tremors that were running through his entire form out of his voice, “I am not some pitiful thing for you to torment,” venom dripped from his words even as they shook.

In his demi-form, Smaug’s laugh was even more terrible than before, “You’d like to think so, wouldn’t you?”

He threw Thorin roughly to the ground and though he fought to regain himself, his shaking legs were now rather uncooperative. His stomach was still turning with nausea and as he pushed himself to his hands and knees, he was sick upon the cold stone floor, though there was barely anything in his belly to empty.

Smaug watched this with cold pleasure and then kicked him hard enough to send his body tumbling a few yards away, tangled in the chains from his collar and cuffs. He was careful not to use his claws, not yet desiring to kill or maim his prey. “Come on, boy,” he said mockingly, advancing on him, “Get up. Show me that _pride_ again.”

Driven purely by hate and adrenaline, Thorin got back to his feet and, looking up, he beheld the full sight of Smaug’s demi-form for the first time. His hide glittered with scales even in the dim light, mostly crimson in color though patches upon his arms, legs, and torso were obsidian instead. Particularly concerning though was what now hung heavily between the serpent’s legs. Scaled and segmented with thick ridges, his shaft was nearly the size of Thorin’s forearm.

But Thorin spat upon the ground at his clawed feet, “ _Fuck off._ ”

Smaug bared his horrific rows of teeth as he snarled, temper flaring again, “What fool is this that would insist upon insulting his new King? Have you no concept of the agony that is within my power to inflict upon you before death? If I even so choose to allow you such release.”

Smaug sucked in a breath, throat still aching from Thorin’s attack, and breathed flames upon the floor that licked at the prince’s bare feet, singeing the hairs about his ankles. Thorin could feel the heat and what terrible pain it promised, but he stood his ground until it had dissipated.

“You,” he sneered hatefully, “are _not_ my king.”

Smaug closed the space between them and grasped Thorin by the neck. Even his hands were now clawed and deadly, but still he did not use them. His grip was made to choke and he lifted the younger man right off his feet as he did so, as though he weighed nothing.

“You make this harder than it need be, Thorin Oakenshield,” Smaug said and like before, the posable digits of his wings grasped Thorin’s ankles to stop his kicking, even as he aimed one to land between Smaug’s legs.

“What else… would you have me do?” Thorin struggled to speak, “Beg for my life? Grovel at your feet? I think not!”

“That much is true, you _don’t_ think,” Smaug tightened his grip to close Thorin’s windpipe, enjoying how he squirmed and gasped, “Not that I’ll need you to do much thinking from now on.”

He continued until Thorin lost consciousness and hung limply in his grip and that was all he remembered before waking up in the room he was now imprisoned in. A week had passed in silence. Dwarves could survive a long time without food or water, but thankfully there were bubbling fountains here, crafted to flow with the water that ran naturally through the deep of the mountain, ever fresh and clear. He’d been able to bathe and drink his fill, but his belly groaned with hunger.

Technically, there were more than a few chambers in his impromptu prison, but they were all sealed off from the rest of Erebor by cave ins. Several rooms there were to pillage for supplies and necessities but there were no weapons to be found aside from sharp bits of rubble, nor food or armor or clothing. He had been attempting to use the rubble to slowly break through the door, but dwarven craftsmanship was excellent and the wood specially imported for its strength. Although he’d made a lot of progress, it was painfully slow work and he grew short of patience.

Thorin rubbed his shoulder, which ached from being thrown against the door repeatedly and bowed his head in despair. Perhaps, he thought, he was being left here to die slowly from starvation. The first few days, he’d called out to any survivors that might be able to hear him until his voice was hoarse. But Erebor was undoubtedly empty now. No one had returned which meant they had lost and if Smaug himself could hear him, he showed no sign of it, nor did he make any sound himself.

On top of his hunger, Thorin hadn’t slept more than a few sporadic hours at a time since he’d been imprisoned and the weight upon his eyelids was becoming quite demanding. Crawling up to the door, he placed his back against it and looked up at the sky through the hole in the ceiling. He wondered at the whereabouts of his kin and if they were safe. The wood elves of Mirkwood hadn’t come it seemed, or else were also defeated.

Just as his bleary eyes finally demanded sleep and his lids dropped over his vision, a strong gust of wind whistled about the room from outside. Part of him wondered if Smaug had returned finally, but a larger part of him hoped beyond reason that if he had, he would take a hint and fuck off so he could sleep. Alas, it was not to be so.

Smaug didn’t speak at first, but his claws clicked softly upon the stone floor as he landed, giving away that he was in his demi-form again. Thorin heard a soft hissing as he approached and soon felt hot breath upon his face. Smaug’s head was level with his own as he inhaled the dwarf’s scent. Thorin’s hand closed slowly and carefully on the sharp rock he’d been using to chip away at the door.

A very quiet laugh emitted from his captor and he leaned in, fangs brushing against Thorin’s ear as he said, “Do you really think that will help you? That _pebble_ would break ere it made so much as a mark upon a dragon’s hide. Go on. _Try_.”

Thorin’s eyes reluctantly opened as Smaug pulled back to look him in the face. He didn’t attack, though his grip remained tight on the rock. “Why are you keeping me here? What is the purpose?”

“Surely, you’re not so ignorant,” said Smaug, “I think you can imagine a reason.”

_I’d keep you for a pet, prince, if I but had the patience._

Thorin glared at Smaug with cold ferocity, accepting in his heart now that Erebor was truly fallen, but he kept his composure as he responded, “And the fate of my kin?”

“I know not,” the dragon answered callously, “You are all but ants beneath my claws. If they aren’t dead, the cowards have fled with the others. They have abandoned you.”

“Tch,” Thorin scoffed in disbelief, a hateful, bitter smile touching his expression, “So that’s it then? You’re to keep me here as, what? Your prisoner? I am no one’s captive, least of all in my own kingdom.”

“ _Your_ kingdom?” Smaug’s eyes glittered maliciously at this.

“Yes,” Thorin continued savagely, “You allude to the deaths of my father and grandfather as if it would mean nothing, but that would make _me_ King Under the Mountain, _worm._ ”

Smaug bared his teeth and roared in fury at Thorin, who held his gaze the whole time as flames danced about his fangs, refusing to back down. After a long moment of glowering at one another, the serpent exhaled sharply out of his nostrils and collected himself once more.

“Do you need to be reminded, _boy_ ,” Smaug said, his voice now low and dangerous, “of what happened the last time you sat upon the throne? How you writhed and moaned and begged beneath me?”

Smaug was right, the sharp stone cracked into tiny pieces when Thorin slammed it into the dragon’s skull. He didn’t even flinch, though a sinister laugh emitted from his throat. One of his massive palms pressed down against Thorin’s chest, pinning him to the door. Both of Thorin’s hands grasped his wrist to pull him off, but it was futile.

“I could have you like that again, begging for more,” Smaug taunted, “I’d wager all of Erebor heard you ere they fled. What they must have thought of their proud little prince as he screamed with pleasure beneath their usurper.”

“You used magic on me!” Thorin spat viciously, his face burning red with shame, “You loathsome fuck!”

“And you gave into it,” laughed Smaug, delighting at having the upper hand again, “You could have fought it. Admit it, you _craved_ it. You _wanted_ it. I set your frail little body on _fire_.”

“Stop it…” Thorin shook his head, as though trying to rid his mind of the memories.

“You want more, even now,” Smaug continued, the claws of his free hand drumming on the inside of Thorin’s bare thigh.

“You’re _sick_.”

“Am I?” the dragon’s eyes lit up with the same hypnotic glow as before.

Thorin turned his head away, “It’s not going to work again.”

Smaug’s claws nearly pierced the skin of Thorin’s jaw as he grabbed him and forced him to look straight ahead, “We shall see. Do try harder than last time. I prefer a challenge.”

The hypnosis pierced him as before, a strange fog that was hot to the touch, ghosting across his skin. “You said… you hadn’t the patience for this,” Thorin hissed through gritted teeth, unable to look away.

And Smaug said low, “You forced my hand. You could have saved yourself this fate, if you’d but restrained your childish pride. But the line of Durin is ever the same. You insult those far greater than you with all the cunning of an insect and dare feign surprise when you are crushed in response.”

With massive effort, Thorin managed to shut his eyes, though his stomach was already fluttering with the effects of the sickness growing inside of him. “You gain nothing through this,” he gasped.

“That’s not entirely true,” Smaug moved his hand from Thorin’s chest, “I do enjoy playing with my food.”

Thorin remembered well what happened the last time he’d been allowed to scramble away. He snatched one of the chains upon the floor and whipped it across Smaug’s eyes, one of the few places he was vulnerable. The dragon snarled in surprise and pain as Thorin bolted from him. But even as his eyes darted about the large room, he knew there was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.

Before he could get far, something heavy swept his feet out from under him and he landed hard, jagged rubble cutting into his exposed skin. Smaug’s tail, he thought, wincing. As he tried to get back to his feet, the serpent’s great clawed foot slammed down on the chain about his neck. The whiplash caused his head to crack back down against the stone, splitting a wound open upon his brow.

Thorin groaned in pain and Smaug responded by placing his other foot upon his back, crunching him down into the floor until he cried out. Smaug laughed cruelly at his expense, saying, “Is that the best you can do? Perhaps it’s better you stay down.”

Thorin spat a curse in his native tongue that would have made even the most vulgar and sordid of his kind blush. The dragon moved his foot, reaching down for a handful of Thorin’s hair and dragged him, half crawling half thrashing, to the nearby fountain. Though only a few feet at its deepest, the structure was massive, carved into the floor in graceful steps with no siding or fencing to keep him from shoving Thorin’s head beneath the bubbling water.

Smaug held him there until he’d nearly ceased fighting and then threw him in unceremoniously. Thorin burst through the surface gasping for air and coughing up mouthfuls of water as his foe advanced on him yet again. He crawled backwards clumsily, chest aching as he fought to breath.

Smaug took great pleasure in this torment and, pausing for a brief moment, his molten eyes met his prey’s as he sucked in a deep breath. Thorin barely had enough time to duck down beneath the water as a torrent of flames surged forth from the dragon’s maw. The sharp light of the fire danced and fragmented in the water around him and he could feel the temperature rising swiftly.

Kicking off the ground with his feet, he propelled himself into cooler waters and resurfaced, shaking. There on his knees, the world suddenly seemed to blur and slow and go quiet. The soft rush of the fountain filled his ears; the trickling of the water as it flowed deep into the mountain. He felt the great weight of exhaustion fall upon him again, and of hunger and of helplessness and sorrow. And though he was conscious, he felt suddenly as if he were dreaming.

Faces began to appear before him; faces of friends and family, his father and grandfather. All around him, his people were fleeing. Screaming echoed as though from far away. There was blood and the smell of burning flesh. Everyone was calling to him to follow, to escape with them, but he couldn’t move. He was being pulled deeper into Erebor, drowning in a sea of gold.

Time passed strangely and after floundering for a while, his head still spinning from being cracked against the stone floor, he found himself leaning heavily against something to keep from blacking out in the water. His breath was wet and weak in his throat and a sinister sound reverberated above him. He was yet unaware that Smaug stood there, watching him. The young dwarf was leaning against the serpent’s leg, struggling to either regain his grip on reality or pass out. Smaug then stepped back, depriving Thorin of support and crouched down in the water before him as he collapsed.

“Poor child,” Smaug crooned, reaching out to stroke his hair, “Look at you. You never stood a chance.”

Thorin’s eyes were open, but his gaze was unseeing. He could barely keep himself above the water’s edge.

“Help me…” he whispered to the faces that flitted through his mind’s eye.

Smaug laughed low and gathered Thorin in his arms, picking him up out of the water. He didn’t struggle or fight, unaware of what was happening, but the air was cold upon his wet skin and he curled reactively into his enemy’s warmth. Smaug relished this vulnerability as Thorin trembled against him, entirely at his mercy. His long, forked tongue lapped up the blood trickling from the cut upon Thorin’s brow and he enjoyed the taste.

The chamber was dark now, the last few dwindling lights of twilight slowly dying. Smaug breathed fire upon the broken remnants of some wooden structure that lay in a heap in a corner, igniting it instantaneously, and settled down upon a regal tapestry that had once hung upon the walls.

He met Thorin’s gaze, setting his hypnosis upon him and the young man squirmed in minor resistance, but he was still too weak and too disassociated to properly grasp his situation. The blooming lust inside of him began setting off warning bells all throughout his darkened mind, forcing some cognizance back into him, but the serpent’s gaze held him fast until he gasped at the surging need pulsating through his body.

“Ahhhn…” he moaned, his face pressing to Smaug’s chest.

Smaug stripped Thorin of his soaking undertunic and pushed aside the silks that he wore around his own waist, revealing the massive girth between his legs. It was already hardened and ready and he placed his prey atop it, grasping his hips and guiding him to grind up and down his shaft. This elicited all the reactions he wanted from Thorin, whose own body was swiftly hardening as well as he obediently took to Smaug’s direction.

“Good boy,” Smaug hissed with satisfaction, releasing him and watching Thorin writhe and grind against him all on his own now.

He pressed his clawed thumb into Thorin’s mouth, commanding him to suck it, and although there was some hesitation he obeyed yet again. Smaug laughed, “Where’s that proud attitude now, little prince?”

Royal blue eyes flitted up to look at him, but his lids were heavy and the haze of the spell was fully upon him. Smaug knew he wouldn’t have the strength to resist now. Gripping him by his hair, he guided Thorin lower until his head was between his legs.

“Let us put that sharp tongue of yours to better use.”

Despite the hypnosis, the younger man looked intimidated by this task, not least of all but for the sheer size of him. “I… I don’t think…” he started, brow furrowing into a deep frown.

“How true,” Smaug gripped his hair harder, “You _don’t_ think. You _suck_. _Now_.”

He winced and folded beneath his captor’s command. Opening his mouth, he struggled to work with the dragon’s length, but Smaug seemed to enjoy it all the more because of that fact. Continuing to use Thorin’s hair, he soon had his head bobbing up and down over as much of his shaft as he could fit without gagging. Though Smaug frequently pushed him further anyway, hissing with pleasure as he choked.

When he came, he held Thorin’s head down over his length and pumped him so full that it burst from his nose. Though his face burned red as he coughed up gobs of cum, his own body reacted with nothing short of ecstasy to it all. Everything Smaug did to him just made him want more, made him ache with need, and this time his own hands were free to satisfy that desire.

Smaug tilted his chin up to admire the mess he’d made of him. Then he motioned for him to get back into his lap and Thorin obeyed without hesitation, his own eyes now giving off a soft red glow. He didn’t require prompting to continue grinding against him, satisfying himself as well. Smaug now saw a new demeanor come into him, something instinctually commanding in his behavior as he did as he pleased. As though he were the one in control.

Taking Thorin’s free hand, Smaug’s forked tongue gilded his fingers with saliva and he commanded, “Use them on yourself.”

Thorin continuing to grind against him as he reached back and found his body ready and eager to yield simply from the lust. His fingers glided in and out, easily stretching himself, for he knew what would come next. The breathy moans that escaped him were sharp but quiet and Smaug listened it to like music as he feasted upon the sight of him.

He waited until he could see the climax building in Thorin, until he was nearly there, before making him stop. The young man writhed and grit his teeth, scowling despite his obedience. But the ice in his expression swiftly melted as Smaug pressed the tip of his ribbed girth up inside of him.

“Tell me what you want,” Smaug hissed in his ear.

Thorin’s voice was a quiet, demanding growl as he pushed himself down to take more of him in, “I want it inside.”

But Smaug grabbed him by the hips to stay his movement, “W _hom_ do you want inside?”

Thorin paused and looked up at him, resistance flickering in his expression. He opened his mouth and closed it, silent until Smaug abruptly shoved another inch up inside of him, making his body spasm in surprise as he cried out.

“Say my name,” Smaug crooned, tongue slipping out to lap at the cut on his brow again, “I want to hear you beg me to breed you.”

Thorin was shuddering as Smaug began moving his tip in and out of him agonizingly slow, his own touch bringing his climax ever closer once more.

“Haa!” he moaned as something he didn’t recognize in his current state burned inside him, “Please…! Smaug… Fuck me…!”

His foe laughed, “Then tell me, prince, who is King Under the Mountain?”

This made Thorin freeze and it seemed that clarity was fighting just behind the glaze of his eyes, “I… I don’t…”

Baring his teeth in displeasure at this reaction, Smaug shoved the entirety of his length up into Thorin’s belly in one fell thrust. Thorin’s voice caught sharply in his throat as his back arched and his form shook, paralyzed from the blow.

“ _Say it._ ” Smaug growled.

When Thorin didn’t obey, he pulled the young man’s hips up, lifting him completely off of his shaft before slamming him back down. He did this again and again as Thorin refused to answer and eventually his inability to speak had little to do with his own resistance as Smaug began ravaging him. No amount of stretching could have fully prepared him for the dragon’s size and for a time pain and pleasure fought for dominance, though pleasure eventually won out.

It was too much for Thorin to handle and he melted in Smaug’s terrible grip. Eventually he was turned around, thrown onto his hands and knees and mounted. Smaug pressed Thorin’s head down to the floor while pulling his hips up high and the prince’s moans echoed loudly about the room as he took him.

It lasted for far longer than the first time. By the end, Thorin lay sprawled on the floor, his body soaked in cum. Both his captor and himself had climaxed multiple times, though each time had brought Thorin closer and closer to clarity and now he lay staring up at the ceiling, sobered and too exhausted for words.

He rolled onto his side and pushed himself up onto his knees, gasping as he felt cum gushing down his legs. Smaug was standing over him and crouched down to stroke his claws through the other’s thick hair. Thorin hadn’t even the energy to flinch away from him.

“What would your people consider you now?” Smaug pondered aloud, “You’re certainly no longer a prince. Are you a prisoner? A concubine? A whore? You certainly fuck like one.”

Thorin swallowed and when he responded, his voice was quiet and hoarse, “I am _not_ … a _whore_ …”

“You’re whatever I say you are,” Smaug said cruelly.

Thorin bowed his head for a moment, too exhausted for anger. “Let me go…” he pleaded in little more than a whisper.

Smaug tilted his chin up, meeting his gaze, “And why should I do that, pray tell?”

“You got what you wanted.”

“Foolish boy. Don’t you realize,” Smaug hissed softly, stroking the side of his face, “I want everything.”


	3. To Devour the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Excerpt] _"But Thorin pressed his lips down upon him, silencing his rage before he could even breathe life into it. Smaug stiffened in frustration, fully capable of just knocking the smaller male off of him or flipping them over, but although he was loath to admit it, he found it arousing. He’d used this hypnosis on many in the past and although it was guaranteed to make his victim pliable and obedient with the right direction, now and again it brought out divergent behaviorisms."_
> 
> \-----------------------------------------------
> 
> When the dragon Smaug begins his siege upon the dwarf kingdom of Erebor, the young prince, Thorin Oakenshield, finds himself face to face with the usurper in strange and fell humanoid forms. And when the great serpent reveals a hypnotic ability to penetrate and control the psyche of his victims, things take an even more sinister turn...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Have critiques or constructive criticism? Please feel free to leave a comment!**
> 
> EDIT: I've updated the artwork on all of the chapters and made sure all can be viewed on my Hentai-Foundry without having to have an account there, although I do recommend it to +Follow me for more content. The art for chapter 3 is actually a scene from chapter 1, I haven't had time to work on a scene from chapter 3, but I plan to soon, so check back for updates or follow me on a website I post art!
> 
> Commissions for NSFW/SFW Art: OPEN
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_This original artwork is a cropped version,_ _the full image can be found_ _on:_

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He’d been plagued by a disturbing dream that appeared to him every night like clockwork. Gold shimmered in monumental hills rolling like waves of the ocean or great dunes of sand beneath his feet. He stood upon the crown of a great mound, gazing out at the endless stretch of wealth. The sun beat down on him from above in a cloudless sky, burning him with its cruel touch. He suffered, but he would not leave the treasure, nor did he seek shelter.

Endlessly he searched through the piles of gems and coins and jewelry. He knew not what he sought, only that he needed it more than life itself. Sometimes, when he tired from searching, he stretched out upon the gold, basking in its warmth and admiring it, for it thrilled his heart to know that all of it was his. A crown he wore upon his brow and the regal garments of a king were draped about his form.

But the sun’s eye never shut and his skin reddened and stung and the hot metal of the treasure burned him. He shed his raiment when he could no longer stand the heat and felt his mind strain and twist. He could not leave the treasure. He had to find what he was looking for and he could never be at peace until he found it.

The heat rose to scorching temperatures as he forced himself up another mountain of gold and suddenly, he slipped. All around him, coins and gems began shifting as he tumbled through them, showering down upon him as he felt himself getting sucked downwards and for all his trashing, he could not bring it to a stop. He cried out, reaching for the dwindling light as he was buried alive in white-hot gold…

Thorin felt a terrible change happening inside of him. Something festered in his mind; a thing of fey nature that danced the dreaming waltz of Smaug’s hypnosis without him. It was him and yet not him. Driven by lust and madness, when his eyes glowed red as embers in the throes of the serpent’s spell, he became someone else. Someone with a very keen desire to take what he wanted and he knew not if it was part of Smaug’s design. He suspected not, as his captor seemed as surprised as he was by it, vivid orange eyes wide as he looked up at him.

They were laying upon a plush carpet that covered the vast majority of the small sitting room. Thorin was straddling him, pinning his wrists down to his sides. Smaug wore the same mortal skin now that he had donned when he’d first taken his pet upon the throne. Once he overcame the initial shock at being forced to the ground like this, his eyes narrowed in anger and his tongue sharpened behind his fangs as he opened his mouth in a snarl.

But Thorin pressed his lips down upon him, silencing his rage before he could even breathe life into it. Smaug stiffened in frustration, fully capable of just knocking the smaller male off of him or flipping them over, but although he was loath to admit it, he found it arousing. He’d used this hypnosis on many in the past and although it was guaranteed to make his victim pliable and obedient with the right direction, now and again it brought out divergent behaviorisms.

After all, the spell antagonized baser, primal instincts and desires, but how the individual would react once those instincts were given full control was never definitive and would evolve over time. Thorin’s natural response to the physical demands on his mind and body was clearly more aggressive than his foe had predicted.

“Careful, _boy_ ,” He hissed threateningly as Thorin pulled back.

His lips brushed against the hot skin of the dragon, smoldering red eyes meeting Smaug’s, “Why? I know you want it.”

His captor growled, but offered no further resistance as Thorin took his hand and placed two of his fingers into his mouth. Smaug had stripped off his formidable black armor and lay beneath him with only his unfastened pants and boots on, crimson skin glittering in the dim light. He grabbed Thorin by the nape of the neck, jerking him down to kiss roughly at his neck as his hand reached below to penetrate him.

“I don’t know where you found this arrogant attitude of yours,” he sneered as he shoved two fingers ungracefully inside, eliciting a sharp, satisfying cry from his prey.

Thorin didn’t respond at first as he adjusted to the sensation. His body was ready, already oozing cum, but quite sensitive after being taken so many times. “You’re one to talk,” he said, his breath shallow and swift, “Aah! W-Wait…!”

Smaug didn’t listen, shoving all four fingers in knuckles deep. Thorin sucked a breath in sharply through his teeth, hissing, “ _Fuck!_ ”

“You forget yourself,” Smaug crooned with amusement.

“Then it is _your_ fault…”

“Hm, I suppose there is some truth to that. I’ve spoiled you, my pet.”

“That’s not what I—Haa!”

Smaug abruptly pulled his fingers out as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. To silence Thorin’s protests, he stuck his cum drenched fingers into his mouth, two at a time, making him suck them all clean.

Smaug laughed, “That’s better. You need to be humbled. Tell me… whom do you serve, slave?”

“Mmm…” Thorin glared hatefully at him as he sucked the digits in his mouth.

The dragon liked few things more than having his ego stroked and forcing Thorin to do so while humiliating him was by far his preferred method. To make matters worse for the boy, every time he was enchanted, Smaug was training his mind and body to become aroused by all that he did to him. So now, as he was made to degrade himself, he could feel the blood rushing both to his face and below his waist and he squirmed with need in his lap.

“I… I serve Smaug, the Great Slayer of Kings” he recited what his captor had taught him to say, fighting to speak around the fingers in his mouth, “He who devours the sun and all those who dwell beneath it, mightiest and wealthiest of the fire drakes of the north, and…”

A low, dark chuckle came from Smaug, “Go on.”

He took his fingers out of Thorin’s mouth and wrapped them instead around his hardened cock, seeing the struggle in his expression. His pet moaned sharply at his touch, craving release. This was something Smaug had been working on diligently with him, making him get off to this sort of torment, and it was working far better than he’d expected. The fallen prince was ever full of surprises.

“King,” Thorin had to force the words out as usual, the humiliation of it too much to bear, “Under the Mountain…”

Smaug tilted his chin up to look him in the face, “Very good. And what are you, child?”

“Why do you keep making me say this?” The serpent delighted to hear defeat within the frustration of his voice.

“To make sure you remember it,” he purred, lifting the boy’s hips to place the tip of his cock against his entrance, “and because it amuses me to put you in your place. Now answer me.”

“I… I am… nothing but a servant of Smaug—ah!” Thorin gasped as the dragon slapped his ass sharply and he corrected himself, “A servant of _my master_ , Smaug…”

His captor began pushing himself slowly up inside of him as he continued, “A slave for his pleasure… Ahhh… I… I am allowed to live solely by the grace of my master…”

“You’re never more aroused than when you admit the truth,” Smaug laughed, “Look at you, trembling and moaning while you shame yourself for me. I’d wager I can make you cum in less than a minute right now.”

“Then shut up and _do it_.”

Thorin shoved Smaug back down into the floor, kissing him with vicious, wild abandon. They rolled, fighting for dominance as the dragon shoved himself deeper inside, lost within the lust of the moment. Their passion was that of violence and hate and its cruel tongue lapped at them with the all-consuming light of an inferno.

“I have something for you, boy,” hissed Smaug into Thorin’s ear.

The prince was bouncing his hips rhythmically up and down over the large cock inside of him, his long, messy hair swept to one side. “You do,” he said in a breathy growl, aroused by the idea of another load of cum, “and I want it inside.”

Smaug gave a sinister laugh, “I was thinking the same thing.”

Not yet realizing that he had misunderstood, Thorin was surprised when he was suddenly lifted up in his master’s arms. In the small sitting room, there was a regal fireplace made from the same enchanting green marble as the walls around it, though nothing burned in its hearth. Before it lay an exquisitely carved table and sofa, where Smaug now sat with him.

He motioned for Thorin to take the small leather pouch that lay upon the table and although he obeyed, he cast a suspicious look at Smaug. He knew the dragon to be anything generous and the mischievous smirk on his face was concerning.

“What is it?” he asked, pressing it to feel what was inside.

Smaug only responded to tell him that he couldn’t keep it. Furrowing his brow in confusion, he opened the pouch and tipped its contents into his open palm. Shock was not enough to describe what he felt as he found himself gazing upon the Arkenstone.

Looking up at Smaug, he said, “I don’t understand.”

“You will,” the serpent responded, taking the stone and running his tongue across it.

Thorin’s eyes widened as he realized what the other intended to do, “ _What?_ You can’t!”

“Why not?”

“ _Why?_ ” The prince gasped in frustration, “It is the King’s Jewel! The sacred treasure of—"

“ _I_ am the king,” Smaug hissed, grabbing Thorin’s wrist and jerking him in close, “It is _my_ treasure, sacred or not. And I’ll do with it as I please, my arrogant little pet.”

Thorin felt heat rise in his face, “I don’t want this.”

“You will,” Smaug kissed him hard, smiling as he began pumping up into him again.

Pressing the Arkenstone to Thorin’s lips, he made him wet the entire thing with his tongue. Then he pulled his cock out of him, moving to replace it with the stone when the boy stopped him.

“I can’t,” he said.

“Then let me.”

Thorin struggled with him, gasping desperately, “Please! I’ll do anything else!”

This piqued Smaug’s interest and he paused, “Oh? Will you now?”

Thorin looked nervously up at him, scowling, “Yes…”

This would have been a rather terrifying thing to proclaim if he wasn’t entirely sure that there was nothing the dragon could do to surprise him at this point. Sexually, Smaug had taken him in every way possible it seemed and even if he could come up with something new, Thorin was rather confident he could handle it now.

Smaug smirked and slipped the Arkenstone back into the leather pouch, “There, in front of the fireplace. Get on your knees.”

Thorin was apprehensive, but did as directed, kneeling upon the plush carpet. Smaug stood before him, arms crossed with a haughty look on his expression that the prince loathed. He suspected this would involve using his mouth on the dragon’s cock, but when he was given the actual direction, his eyes bulged and he stammered, “Wh- _What_?”

“I said,” Smaug repeated slowly, annunciating every word carefully as though he were dim, “Lick. My. Boots.”

Thorin swallowed hard, looking down at the dragon’s feet. He hadn’t expected Smaug to come up with something this terrible. “You… You can’t be serious…” he said desperately.

“You said _anything_ ,” Smaug sneered, “Now do it before I fuck that stone up into your guts.”

This threat was terrifying enough to make Thorin bend down, his face inches from the other’s black dragonhide boots. It took him quite a while to finally summon the will to do it, but slowly he willed his tongue out of his mouth and lapped at his captor’s boots. His face burned with humiliation, but his body was set ablaze, his cock hardening even more so.

Smaug laughed darkly, “At that pace, you’re going to be down there for a while. Not that I mind. I’ll even let you touch yourself while you’re at it.”

“I hate you,” Thorin growled weakly as he obeyed, reaching between his own legs.

“That’s adorable,” Smaug mocked him, pleasuring himself as well as he watched.

Thorin was quite familiar with the taste of dragonhide boots by the time Smaug directed him to get up and cater to his cock instead. Outside, thunder rumbled ominously and swift flashes lit up the darkened inside of the larger room beside them now and again. Soon, Thorin found himself with his face and hair dripping with a thick new coating of cum.

His breath came short and sharp as he satisfied his own lust, feeling his climax ready to burst. Biting his lip with a mean look in his eye, Smaug crouched down before him, grabbing him by the hair and forcing him to bow his head down.

“Cum on your own face, little whore,” he sneered.

Thorin was too close to argue and let out a hiss of pleasure as he finally came, closing his eyes as it splattered across his face. Smaug jerked his head up to admire his work, smiling.

“There,” he said with cruel satisfaction, “Your appearance matches your title now.”

Thorin sat upon the steps of the fountain, waist deep in the water as he splashed his face, washing the cum from his skin and beard, before lowering himself to fully submerge. When he resurfaced, he began pulling his fingers through his hair, trying to make sure it was clean of the sticky substance.

Smaug stood nearby and inhaled deeply, breathing fire upon the surface of the water until it steamed before stepping in. Thorin shuddered at the sudden temperature change and shot an annoyed look at the other, but the dragon cared not. He snapped his fingers and gestured for Thorin to approach.

“Come,” he said, as though speaking to a dog.

Thorin frowned, but stood and approached him. Smaug didn’t say anything for a while as he soaked, eyes closed in contentment, for he enjoyed making his pet stand around waiting on him. The prince was used to this behavior and although it annoyed him, he remained obedient.

Eventually, Smaug smirked at him, “You’re always so shy afterwards. What an innocent thing you pretend to be.”

“My apologies for displeasing you,” he responded, coating the statement in just enough sarcasm.

Smaug’s eyes narrowed, “You truly are an infuriating little riddle. Although that’s quite lucky for you, I suppose. It’s the only reason you made it this far. I’m surprised you’re still alive.”

“I am allowed to live solely by the grace of my master.”

“Mmmm, good boy,” Smaug purred, “I do love hearing you say that. And your master so generously allows you his grace because you do so well at keeping him entertained. Sit.”

He motioned to his lap with his eyes and Thorin hesitated for a moment before approaching. Smaug pulled him down to sit straddling him and stroked the side of his face, “It’s charming how easily you blush.”

Naturally, this only made his face burn hotter and he scowled, looking away. “You’re such a sullen brat,” Smaug combed his fingers through Thorin’s hair, “But sullen is boring. Tell me something interesting. How many others have had you like I have?”

Thorin frowned, “Why do you ask…?”

“Because I’ve fucked quite a lot, although you’re the first I’ve had of Aulë’s children,” Smaug said bluntly, “And I know you’ve had a taste of domination before I.”

Thorin’s blush reached his ears and he looked at Smaug in indignation, “What are you saying?”

Smaug took his chin in his hand, “I’m saying either you’re naturally predisposed towards getting off on getting knocked down or someone taught you that pleasure already. And I’m willing to bet it’s the latter. So, whom had the privilege of knocking you down first?”

He pulled away, “That’s none of your business.”

“Oh? Don’t I recall you saying you’d be willing to do anything to keep me from burying your precious Arkenstone inside you?”

“That’s low,” Thorin growled, “I already did what you wanted…”

“Just the same though, you’ll do as I say. Or maybe you want another taste of my boots?”

“I… _Fuck_ …”

Smaug chuckled, continuing to play with his hair, “I’m waiting.”

Thorin exhaled through his nose in annoyance and, after a few failed tries, he finally said, “I’ve… only had one other like this.”

“And? I sense you’re embarrassed by their identity, which strengthens my suspicions,” Smaug laughed, “Was he one of the humans of Dale?”

Thorin crossed his arms subconsciously, defensive as he admitted, “He’s… an elf.”

Even Smaug was surprised by this, “Now that _is_ interesting. From Thranduil’s realm?”

Thorin nodded silently.

“Then it may interest you to know that they came not to your aid when I took Erebor,” the dragon said, smiling, “Even your elven lover abandoned you.”

“He did not come?” Thorin didn’t bother hiding his surprise, burning with anger at this knowledge.

Although he’d suspected the possibility in his bitterness for the fall of Erebor, having it confirmed was no less painful. They had a tenuous relationship with the woodland realm recently, but he’d convinced himself that Thranduil would keep his word as their ally; that in such dire need he would at least try to help them, as they would have tried to help him. He himself had been working hard to repair that relationship after the damage Thror had done.

“That bastard,” Thorin hissed to himself, “That fucking… _coward_ … After everything…”

Smaug’s eyes watched him carefully, listening to the genuine pain and insult in his voice. Thorin was so upset by this information, he was shaking.

“Tell me his name,” Smaug said and something in his tone told Thorin he had already guessed. He simply wanted him to admit it now.

Thorin glared at him bitterly and, with great difficulty, confessed, “Thranduil.”

Smaug was still shocked, “You fucked the elven king? What did you do? Sell yourself to make amends for your father’s ill will?”

Thorin tried to stand, but Smaug grabbed him, holding him still as he thrashed. “How dare you suggest-! Get off of me! You fucking—Let me go!”

“Did you love him?”

“Stop it!” Thorin stopped struggling and seized Smaug by the shoulders, shaking him to his great surprise, “What difference does it make? He turned his back on us! He’s dead to me!”

For a long moment, nothing happened. Thorin slumped down, the fire going out of him, and bowed his head. Sorrow was inching its cold fingers into his mind, filling him with the weight and sting of loss and it came on so sudden and unexpected, he found himself blinking back tears.

It was not the first time Smaug had seen him cry, but it was extremely rare and he’d never broken down in front of him like this. The serpent was cruel, but he knew he had to be careful. He’d had many pets over his hundreds of years of life and he knew what pushing one too far during a vulnerable period could cause. He’d already pushed his boundaries by prying into Thorin’s personal life and then insulting him.

He wrapped his arms around the boy’s trembling shoulders and pulled him close, careful not to force him or hold him too tightly. He gave him room to pull back or resist, but was met with neither, for Thorin’s internal armor had been beaten to a pulp and he let his captor hold him, crying almost silently against his chest.

Smaug was typically annoyed by displays like these rather quickly. A moping, sorrowful pet was a boring pet and although he was crafty enough to display a gentle visage once in a while, he couldn’t be expected to show genuine compassion. But with someone like Thorin who usually kept up an iron clad emotional defense, Smaug found it sadistically enjoyable.

“Shhh…” He hissed softly, stroking Thorin’s hair.

The boy wrapped his arms around Smaug’s middle, squeezing him tightly as he cried harder. He wasn’t a fool, he knew Smaug didn’t care and that this show of would-be kindness was false, but it didn’t change the fact that he wanted to be held just then. He needed to allow himself to hurt for a moment. But that momentary lapse in judgement didn’t last long.

He pulled himself together quickly, embarrassed, and released Smaug, standing to separate himself completely from him. His captor allowed this, relinquishing his own grip. He reached up and brushed away a tear from Thorin’s face with his thumb. Then he stroked his sides and hips with his hands, saying, “You’re getting thin. I suppose I haven’t been feeding you as much as I should, you’re already so tiny.”

Thorin was silent as Smaug stood, kissing his stomach, chest, and lips on the way up, every place of contact lighting up with heat. “I’ll bring you more food.”

He stepped away, breathing fire upon himself to dry his body instantaneously before pulling his pants and boots back on. He disappeared into the sitting room and when he emerged again, he was dressed in his black armor and had the leather pouch with the Arkenstone tied to his belt. He gazed again at Thorin, who remained bathing in the hot water, his back to Smaug. Then he spread his great wings and was gone.


End file.
